


DIRK: Consider your horse

by Cephalopod



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crack Pairing, Horses, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephalopod/pseuds/Cephalopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You live a life of constant sexual frustration. You get on the computer while he's not around and you write torrid romantic fanfictions about him and you traversing the landscape illustrated with crappy pictures you stole from the internet and you put them in a folder on his desktop called FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION SIGNED YOUR HORSE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DIRK: Consider your horse

Dirk's in charge and he's decided that his room is going to be ground zero for the Shithole Wasteland Equine Appreciation Society, of which he is the grandmaster and benevolent despot, and as which he rules with an iron hand over his robots, his smuppets, and you. You're tiny and adorable. You're his little pony. There's a song about it. With friendship and things.

It's not a sex thing. Really, it's not.

Except that it's totally a sex thing, it is most _definitely_ a sex thing, your beloved lord and master is pretty much begging a cruel and uncaring universe all day every day for the sweet spacious relief of mare-poonie and the mighty truck-like onslaught of stallion wang and so on and so forth, and there is only one complication to this which is that in your case, your case specifically, it is not a sex thing.

It's as though your lord and master has never heard of microkink. You're not entirely sure that you're into that yourself, but it sure would be nice to know that the idea had at least occurred to _him_. He's into everything else, and you've watched a lot of it, but you? You get your tail braided. Which is nice. Seriously, no question there. You love getting your tail braided. You love it so much you kind of want to die when he combs it with the little plastic comb and braids it and puts the little bow back on it and tells you you're pretty. Maybe that's what sex is. Maybe that's what it's like for you, for tiny adorable horses.

...dammit no, it's not sex, if it were that easy he'd have posters of it.

You've read all sorts of sex things on his screen and learned a bit. You want to be his huckleberry. You want him to draw you like his French girls. You want to figure out what the hell those things mean, because they certainly seem like things that would be sex things and maybe he would like them. You stand on his desk while he's looking at porn and swish your tail and try to look as delicious and load-bearing as you possibly can, but it hasn't worked yet.

This would be so, SO easy if you could just...say something. But you can't, you're not like the magic friendship ponies on the computer that have mouths that work. FUCK.

You live a life of constant sexual frustration. You get on the computer while he's not around and you write torrid romantic fanfictions about him and you traversing the landscape illustrated with crappy pictures you stole from the internet and you put them in a folder on his desktop called FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION SIGNED YOUR HORSE. Either he doesn't notice (unlikely) or he ignores it (unlikely) or he assumes that it's a sally in some sort of bizarre duel between him and some unknown third party (much more likely), but he completely fails to act on any of it.

One day you just...you just can't deal anymore.

He's typing away to one of his human friends. You charge up there right onto the keyboard and you headbutt his hand away--he tries to shoo you but no, THIS IS YOUR MOMENT--and you manage to type CAN WE DO IT PLZ and then he grabs you and holds you over his head while he types BRB, HORNSE oh you are the worst little pony ever, you are so so bad and you regret nothing.

"Dude," says your lord and master, lowering you to eye level. "What was all that about."

You still don't have a mouth, fuckitty fuckums, so you toss your pretty mane and your pretty bow and just completely abase yourself sexually or whatever, you really don't even know.

"Nice," he says. "But I don't know what I can do for you here."

You stamp.

"Ow," he says. "Seriously, I'm open to suggestions. It's just that you're a tiny adorable horse, that's all. If I weren't kind of confused by how to proceed, given your lack of eyes, mouth, or junk, we'd be probably be locked in white-hot sexual congress already."

Your lord and master is a filthy liar, but you want to believe. You whinny at the keyboard and he lets you climb back on. RIDE ME, you type. You've been thinking a lot about it. You think that's the key. INTO THE SUNSET.

"You got it, hoss."

YOUR LORD AND MASTER IS THE BEST EVER. He is so spunky <3

Dirk pushes away from the computer and goes to rummage around in the smuppet pile. You don't go in that pile for reasons that are entirely satisfactory to you. You were therefore previously unaware that your lord and master had fashioned, or allowed to be fashioned, a smuppet of himself. It has his glasses. It has the most grossly disproportionate, bulbous, saddle-fillingest buttocks you have ever seen. If you could, you would moan. _Yes._ Yes, this is right.

He carries you both, plus his shitty BORD, outside onto the roof. The ocean stretches away in all directions; the sun's going down, sparkling as it goes, and Dirk's sweet ass is finally going to tap you. You are impossibly happy.

Carefully he sets you down just shy of the edge of the roof. More so, he settles the weight of Dirk-smuppet across your saddle. The thing is probably four times your size but it's mostly stuffing so its weight is merely twice yours. You are completely weighed down by it. It's perfect.

"Yah," commands Dirk. You stagger nobly forward.

Your lord and master chooses not to savor your narratively-charged piteousness and half-assedly gleams the cube a little instead. That's okay. You squint into the sun and you bear your heavy burden slowly forward as you must do, step by step, and you never complain even once. You are the bravest and best little pony ever and this is a very very sad movie of which you...are the star.

It's you.

"How's that working out for you?" He's so dreamy, it's almost like it's really him riding you right now, so heavy and implacable

oh your knees are shaking

oh you'll never make it oh 

oh you totally don't

Your legs give out underneath you, the Dirk smuppet flops ungainly across your flanks like a dead thing and you are utterly ruined and driven to the ground by crashing torrents of melodramatic satisfaction.

it's perfect.

 

Dirk carries you back inside later and sticks you in a mug to recover. You're pretty sure he just took your virginity, and you wouldn't want it to have been anyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Homestuck Crack Pairing Generator. (http://linksprojects.weebly.com/homestuck-crack-pairing-generator.html) You complete me.


End file.
